


Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

by SC182



Series: Animal Kingdom ain't got nothing on us [1]
Category: Fast Five (2011), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Violence, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/SC182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbs thinks they’re square and Brian doesn’t want to be misunderstood. Were-Creature AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Universal Pictures, Justin Lin and Gary S. Thompson. Any deviation (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.
> 
> A/N: Inspired by the Charlaine Harris Southern Vampire Verse. Characters herein are were-creatures (think werewolves). Though the Fast and Furious movies are all about the escalating epic love affair of Brian and Dom, I figured Brian wouldn’t take too kindly to anyone getting close to his ~~man~~ mate. Brian O’Conner wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his family or his mate. Not his job, prison, car chases or bullets. An FBI agent doesn’t stand a chance. Title taken from Nina Simone's Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood.
> 
> A/N # 2: Click on the buttons in the text to hear Hobbs and Brian’s were voices. May take a second to get going and is a bit loud.
> 
> A/N #3: Small reference to one of Dwayne Johnson aka The Rock’s old WWF catchphrases in the text.

Hobbs turned the key and pushed the door to his hotel room open. The interior, sparse as it was, was submerged in inky shadows. Only the light spilling in behind him managed to cut through the black.  
  
He twisted the knob on the lamp closest to the door, before stepping fully inside. Not that he needed the light. It was all a matter of keeping up appearances. The room was just as he’d left it: aggressively neat, mostly vacant and precise. Everything had a place, each place had a meaning and each item was to be used should the occasion arise.  
  
He went about his routine as he unstrapped his vest, holsters and weapons of various sorts. He was meticulous in his movements, focused on his task, because he knew any slip up could mean life or death. Today had showed just how easy the latter could come about.  
  
As Hobbs surveyed the paltry excuse of a living area, before wandering back to his bedroom for this trip, he smiled. Everything, such as it was, passed muster. Unwinding was allowed, though for man like him, always operating at eleven, unwinding meant taking it down to ten. Nine, if he was sleeping.  
  
He’d been on the trail of cons and fugitives for a long time. Learning well and hard from experience, he knew how they could come at him: front, sideways, up and down, in between; he had to be ready for all of it. Sinking down on his bed, his body ached, his bones popped in exhaustion, and his heart, though he loathed admitting he had one, ached for his team.  
  
His pack gone. Stolen from him.  
  
See, the government had spared the dime for the room in an attempt to get him a little R and R before he was back on the trail of Toretto and O’Conner, though they were probably expecting something better than the flat beige walls of this barely above board Rio crack mansion. It didn’t matter if they’d stuck him in the Ritz or a favela tin shack, he would hate wherever he was. It was the walls that were setting him further on edge.  
  
If he had his way, he’d be beyond the tree line of the city and out in the heart of the forest, roaring at the moon. Letting the beast do as he wanted, tear shit up over being denied its dutiful revenge—blood between its teeth, claws and paws.  
  
It was Were 101 to not go prowling through unknown territory and Rio was alive with the smell of weres. All sorts, every kind he’d ever met and some that he didn’t even know existed. That’s why he was so good with finding Toretto and O’Conner, because they reeked of it.  
  
That was how he’d find them again. Because cats didn’t change their stripes and weres never changed their scents. He toed off his boots, laughing to himself, that same deep surprisingly effervescent chuckle that sprang up at the sight of the empty vault.  
  
Even without the money, Toretto and O’Conner would put him through the ringer. And, boy, was he looking forward to it. Like a high speed chase, full of bullets, skid marks, destruction of private property and car carnage; the chase would be fun.  
  
Hobbs was still laughing when he went back to the living room to get a map. He’d roll with any punches that came his way and he’d land twice as many in return. One good growl was all it usually took. There weren’t many weres that would take up the challenge of King Cat. Fewer still that actually managed to survive a fight.  
  
Wrench or no wrench, he’d had Toretto as human or were. He’d smelled the cat all over him, even though he couldn’t quite place his, his sister, or O’Conner’s scents despite the air being saturated with the smell of wolves, panther, lynx and hyena. Cats and dogs running together, he should bust them on that alone. The thought was just unseemly.  
  
Hobbs dug around in his satchel. He’d been given a stack of maps and GIS satellite images to coordinate the hunt. None of it provided anything he couldn’t figure out on his own. Elena was more than a nice smile and wicked sense of determination; she was also a were, a cute little lynx with the heart of a rabid jaguar.  
  
He could dig it.  
  
She’d slipped a folded map, dog-eared and yellow with age, no different from the variety that tourists got from their hotels. Though unlike the tourists’ maps, this one carried a little something extra. He smoothed the map over the cool wood flattop of the table, his eyes pursing the best routes into the jungle. Hobbs scanned for any trace of the faint broken lines that often indicated were paths to forests and isolated places. The edges of the map were loaded with more markings of more trails than he’d ever seen.  
  
He just might have to change his thoughts on Brazil, Toretto’s declaration notwithstanding.  
  
Admitting that he was a hypocrite was another thing he didn’t do often. The last time he’d admitted to being so, there had been a literal blue moon in the sky. On a night like that all sins could be forgiven. Then again, his hypocrisy when by himself was staggering; his mama had been a Brahma Bull by birth and his dad a bear. How the hell he turned out to be a lion was a lesson in throwback genetics that he didn’t have the time or the inclination to understand.  
  
The air conditioner kicked on, blowing a cool stream of mildew-tainted air, making his decision to get out all the more pertinent. The curtains, wall-length, brown and stiff, bracketed the window, and fluttered as the cool air currents pushed across the room. His ears twitched at the slight flutter of the curtains as the air disrupted their stillness.  
  
The half-smells of mildew, age, wood, and dust were alive in the room, not quite as stifling as all the artificial scents from the foot traffic of people moving in and out of hotel rooms in a better place. The room would keep, for a few days at least, if he’d had the time to stay.  
  
He circled his path of entry and exit with one smooth curl of a perfectly sharp fingernail. Hobbs needed only his boots and room key to leave this place. The call of the night was attractive. Over the din of car horns and human nightlife, he could just make out the humming song and low roar of the real heart of Rio. If he had his way, he’d find Reyes’ body and rip it to shreds in front of all and sundry and scatter the pieces to the four winds as was pack law.  
  
All his brothers, cats of a sort were lost at the Reyes’ hands. Now it was his right to rip those hands off his bullet-ridden carcass. Again, a grin rolled over his face and he almost felt like celebrating.  
  
But, of course, an interruption followed.  
  
“For a tracker, you don’t seem to track too well.” Brian O’Conner’s voiced floated up behind him. Hobbs’ ears twitched again as Brian stepped out from behind the curtain to stand in front of the air conditioner. “I could stand here all night watching you laugh by yourself, even if it is hella creepy.”  
  
Hobbs noted that despite O’Conner’s position in front of the small wall unit, he still couldn’t pick up his smell.  
  
No scent, how curious. What little trick did he use to hide it? Before, O’Conner had been covered in the smells of the Torettos. Now, he barely gave off anything other than the stiff, artificial fiber odor of the curtains.  
  
Hobbs closed the map on the table before he replied, “Nice seeing you too, O’Conner. Guess you didn’t need that twenty- four hour window I gave you after all.” He folded his arms over his chest as he turned around to face Brian O’Conner, who looked too cool for one on the threshold of having his ass handed to him on a platter. “Didn’t realize that you were as dumb as you’re pretty in real life, but somehow I should have expected that.”  
  
“Bite me, Hobbs,” Brian said as he stalked towards the light. Those glacial blue eyes of his flickered with iridescence once he stepped into the wide bright arc of the lamp.  
  
Flashing his eyes was he? Hobbs could get down. If O’Conner wanted to flash blue in Blood territory, he’d let him. He was in the mood for blood and a fight was a fight, whether six rounds or thirty seconds.  
  
Hobbs smirked, “I’d swallow you whole, pretty kitty.” He flexed his muscles and popped his neck, loosening up for the fight to come and showing in very simple terms every avenue in which O’Conner was about to be outclassed.  
  
“Plus, Toretto seems like a cool cat, but I’d doubt he’d be all too pleased if I clawed up that pretty face of yours.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be talking if I was you. Cuz, the bigger you are the harder you fall, bro,” Brian said simply. For all that he might have appeared to be standing there lazily, he was alert at the edges, wiry muscles stiff and ready to spring at any moment.  
  
They didn’t circle as was custom and instinct, but stood on opposite ends of the room sizing each other up with calculating eyes. Hobbs’ gaze could melt steel, while Brian’s radiated a sharp arctic chill. Hobbs’ chest rose and fell with the same dynamic force as the turbulent seas. And Brian was the textbook definition of calm.  
  
Then he found it. That peculiar _scent_ rife with cat, sea salt and something that he couldn’t quite gather, all mixed up into a dark, musky thread that thrummed with energy. “Nifty trick you got there, but I’m guessing you didn’t come here to show me that.”  
  
Brian inclined his head slightly, “Nope, not all. You ever hear it’s rude to go around smelling people.”  
  
Just for shits and giggles, but mostly to piss O’Conner off even further, Hobbs tilted his head back and took a deep inhale, capturing every last detail of the room and the fact that Brian O’Conner was in it. The smile he offered in reply said _come get me, kitty_ , and he waited for Brian to make the next move. Most likely jumping across the room like someone had singed his fur.  
  
“You crossed the line earlier today. Made a big damn mistake.” Brian scowled, as Hobbs looked on amused.  
  
Curious, Hobbs probed Brian for more intel. He’d at least like another reason to beat his ass other than him hashing an incredibly stupid plan of sneaking up on him. “Your alpha doesn’t need you fighting his battles.”  
  
Shaking his head, Brian barked, “I’m not fighting for my alpha.” He toed off his worn Converse and stood in his bare feet.  
  
Then it was the sister, Hobbs projected.  
  
After the air conditioner died down, the room was full of the scent of cat. Large, angry cats. Hobbs couldn’t recall doing anything specific to her other than rounding her up with the rest. Even if the cat in all of them was unidentifiable, he could still make on that fine cool earthy trace of pregnant. Protective fathers had done all kinds of dumb things for less. Instinct and pride demanded blood. He’d give O’Conner another shot, not that it would do him any good.  
  
“Aw, the sister. I didn’t mean to scent your girl. Those protective daddy instincts are going into overdrive huh? Well, if it was anybody else, I’d say you had a fair shot. This time, it just ain’t in the cards, Slick.”  
  
Brian looked at him askance. “There’s a difference between mated and mate, and any dumb pack animal knows that, especially the dumb ones.” The knot between his broads broadcasted exactly where he thought Hobbs end up in that statement.  
  
“Huh?” Hobbs said, considering what he’d witnessed and smelled. “Well played, O’Conner. Get in with the sister…and _the brother_. You really know how to spread yourself around. Toretto didn’t strike me as the kind to go for that. Some Alpha you got there.”  
  
As Brian bristled, a low growl escaped his lips.  
  
“Toretto’s gotta have some real Alpha fire to pull a bunch of misfit cats and confused dogs together.” He sniffed and hummed, before shaking his head once again at the sad state of affairs. Cats and dogs living together. Bonding as a pack. Christ, next thing he’d know pigs would fly in blue tutus singing Swan Lake. “I shoulda scented beta boy bitch all over you.”  
  
“Look who’s talkin’,” Brian hissed, hackles raised and ready to go at the slightest twitch. “Considering you were doing a lot of uninvited sniffing.”  
  
He could see why O’Conner was here to hiss at him like some pissed feral alley cat. Toretto was a powerful Alpha, a charismatic one to build such an odd little pack. He’d love to go all up close and personal, take a real tumble with that one; all power and no easing off the throttle, and the promise of going until exhausted. His favorite kind of tumble was the rough kind, and Toretto looked like he could do rough in spades.  
  
So what if he let his pheromones show he was a little more interested in something outside of cops and robbers than simply beating the shit out of each other. He was hot and he wouldn’t kick Toretto out of bed for spilling a protein shake. And everyone knew Alpha sex was like jumping off Everest: rare as shit, dangerous as hell and life-changing in an awesome born again baptism through fire kinda way.  
  
Figuring that the gauntlet had been thrown, Hobbs prepared himself. His shirt would go first.  
  
“Speaking of bitch boys, you seemed like you wanted to take my place, and I just can’t have that.” Brian watched as Hobbs peeled away his shirt, revealing in inch after inch of rippling and rolling valley and swells of muscle. “I fought tooth and claw to be in this family and nobody’s gonna mess that up. You hear me?”  
  
As soon as the shirt fell to the floor, Hobb’s rolled his shoulders and eyed Brian with a wide pearly smile, the _you wanna try your claws at this_ loud and clear. “Kitty’s worried about his place in the pride?” Hobbs drawled sarcastically.  
  
A second later his pants were tossed aside. He stood boldly stark naked, ready to shift at a second’s notice. The flush that crept up Brian’s face from beneath his collar wasn’t from the surge of adrenaline prior to a battle. No, that was pure _I could get all up on that thang but I’m too scared to_ and Hobbs offered Brian his cheekiest of smiles. “All you gotta do is ask,” Hobbs purred.  
  
Brian flushed harder.  
  
Then he exhaled low and slowly, composed himself and spoke with deliberate gestures. “Pack. Pride. Whatever. Those are just words. I’m here about my family,” he growled between clenched teeth, “which you sure as hell shouldn’t’ve touched. Then there’s my mate…” He paused as curled his fist, releasing the tension between his knuckles in a series of loud pops. Despite the animal being so close to the surface, as he spoke he seem entirely human, though the persistent hiss and growl in the hollow of his words spoke of the nearness of the cat.  
  
“For him, I’m gonna have your throat."  
  
“And what are you gonna do, Little Kitty? Scratch my eyes out?” He scoffed as he flexed his muscles and flashed his sharp pearly canines in a quick smile. “I eat bigger pieces of meat than you for breakfast. You ain’t got what it takes. Last chance to get out here is through that door.”  
  
“I’ll scratch you up real nice,” Brian gnashed his teeth and threw the closest object to him, a chair.  
  
Hobbs dodged the chair easily and shifted with the urgency of lightning in his vein, skin rolling and twisting, bones snapping and reforming as the lion burst through his skin. And he opened his mouth and growled.His mouth gleamed like the natural shine of pearl, teeth dagger sharp and waiting to sink into any flesh belonging to Brian O’Conner. His growl had not been restrained and, surely, anyone on either side of these paper thin walls had heard him.  
  
Brian remained across the room, mouth twisted in a feral grin waiting for Hobbs’ advance. “Come on King Cat, let’s see what you got.” Brian beckoned Hobb’s forward with a wave of his hands.  
  
Hobbs shook his head in a show of understanding. His mane shifted in golden waves along his thick neck as he shuffled his feet ever so slightly laterally before taking three small steps and launching himself at Brian.  
  
Instead of landing on his target at the end of his pounce, he was side-swiped by another chair. Moving with adept quickness for two feet, Brian hurled another low wooden table straight at Hobbs’ head. He redoubled his steps as Hobbs crouched low, aiming to strike. As he rounded the next corner of the room, he ripped a painting with a vivid neon colored beach scene from the wall, tossing it laterally like a sword slicing through air. The blocky television below it flew much slower once Brian hurled it at Hobbs, who batted it down like a beach ball.  
  
Hobbs moved on the offensive and sprang after Brian. He swiped at Brian’s feet as he leapt on the glass top of the wooden entertainment center. He dodged each swipe with a well timed hop. Hobbs threw his body against the center. He rammed the front corner a second time, this time hard enough to destabilize Brian’s feet, forcing him to make a catapult jump to the bigger table where the map had been strewn.  
  
He didn’t stick the landing, instead, hitting his chin on the tabletop. He scrambled up the body of the table just as Hobbs blasted forward from his haunches, sinking one set of lancet claws into Brian’s calf. Hobbs purred in satisfaction. He’d drawn first blood.  
  
Really, O’Conner was a lot dumber than he looked. Who brought a human to a cat fight?  
  
Loud groans sharp and painful flowed unfettered from Brian’s mouth until he clamped down on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and quieted himself. He went limp under the weight of Hobbs’ claw.  
  
Again, a rumble emerged from Hobbs throat in pleasure. He pulled his claw back with the intent of striking again and yanking Brian off the table completely. However Brian sprang forward, curled up to his feet and vaulted off the table onto Hobbs’ back.  
  
Hobbs reared back, attempting to shake Brian off, but Brian held on, locking his feet around Hobbs’ middle and securing his arms around that bristly fan of his mane. Rivulets of blood poured from Brian’s arms as Hobbs batted at him, scratching him with each blow. All traces of human in the room fled as Hobbs dashed across the room, hurtling himself into any upright piece of furniture to dislodge Brian’s hold.  
  
Brian’s fingers, quickly becoming claws of his own, dug deeper, gouging bloody furrows into Hobbs’ shoulders and neck with each passing second. The smell of magic was heavy in the air as Brian finished shifting.  
  
The weight atop shifted and settled, far heavier than O’Conner had once been, and Hobbs began to shake in fury in an effort to unseat his opponent, which now felt heavier and longer than he once was. His legs began to buckle as the claws in his shoulders curled inward. He roared in pain.  
  
Then he lost the ground beneath him. His body arching suddenly and those claws were spinning him down to the floor to land hard on his back. He caught flashes of white and black blur as Brian landed cut after cut on his exposed soft belly. He began to panic. Hobbs hadn’t been on his back this way since he was a cub.  
  
He began to fight back in a series of accurate strikes to the face as Brian sprang forward. One landed so close to one clear blue eye. Brian recoiled with a pained hiss, shook himself and dove forward throwing his body down on Hobbs, pinning him in place.  
  
He ripped stripes from Hobbs’ front legs. The moment he felt some of that fire in Hobbs give a little he bared his teeth and roared.Then his fangs, glistening white, sank into Hobbs' neck and locked into the skin and fur. The bite was tight, clamped just so that it was Hobbs who had to decide how this would play out. A resist and fight back and a slight tug was all Brian needed to expose his throat. Go limp and he’d walk away no more worse for wear.  
  
Brian growled lowly, thunderous.  
  
And Hobbs finally relented.  
  
Brian tightened his teeth once more around Hobbs’ bloody throat before letting go. Then he retreated slowly back towards his original position by the air conditioner. Brian growled once in warning. Message understood, Hobbs shifted back. He was a lot worse than Brian, who now human again, only bore bloody marks along his lower calf, back of his arms and a small nick below his left eye. The same electric current blue held over from man to were and back again.  
  
Hobbs remained quiet, cowed by the stings of his cuts and bruises, and the foreign sensation of embarrassment settling over him. O’Conner had showed him and his neck hurt like a bitch as a consequence.  
  
The clothes Brian had been wearing, nothing that they’d been anything special in Hobbs’ eyes, were a pile of indiscernible rags. At least, that made him feel better. Brian cut his blue eyes at him, glaring as if he’d heard Hobbs' less than cheerful thoughts.  
  
Good thing he’d sprung for the cheapest room possible. Now that left over cash would be handed over to pay as compensation for a bout of were on were violence.  
  
O’Conner walked into the bedroom without a second glance. Now that his three-sixty view of O’Conner was complete, Hobbs figured he wouldn’t mind tapping that if circumstances were different. He could see the appeal in more ways than one and no wonder Toretto locked Brian up as his mate. That white boy had an ass that like a drum was meant to be beat slowly.  
  
“Finding everything all right?” Hobbs asked from his place on the floor.  
  
He heard the clicks and snaps of doors and drawers being opened in the next room. “Yep,” Brian replied as if they were best buds.  
  
As Hobbs lurched forward stiffly and upright, Brian returned to the room, wearing a t-shirt that looked about two sizes too big and a pair of jersey knit workout shorts. In short, Hobbs thought he looked a hot mess.  
  
Far be it from him to say something to Brian again. He wasn’t in a position to criticize him after he’d been the one served a piping hot plate of whoop-ass, though he was still curious. He watched Brian stuff his feet back into his Converse and kneel down to tie them.  
  
“So you’re a tiger?” A white freaking tiger to be exact. If lions were rare, then tigers were like unicorns nearly unheard of.  
  
Brian tied one shoe, then the other. “Got it in one.”  
  
“Toretto and his sister? Let me guess, tigers too?”  
  
Brian’s smile was movie star perfect. A thing of beauty capable of setting just about anyone at ease “What do you think?”  
  
No wonder he hadn’t been able to figure them out. The tigers were thought to have died out. Well, apparently not. No one had seen one in about fifty years, so thinking they’d gone the way of the Dodo bird was only logical. Now, he had three on his hands, possibly four one day. Made a strange version of sense, when Hobbs thought about it. O’Conner had a tendency to leap before looking with an innate expectation of landing on his feet. Coupled with Toretto’s brand of brazen everything and these two made ripping off drug dealers, destroying city infrastructure, leaping off cliffs and driving off into the sunset hobbies.  
  
Tigers, man. Crazy.  
  
As cuckoo for chaos and cars as they might be, Toretto and O’Conner made a fine set. Mating with Toretto’s sister was weird but again logical in the pack law sense. Enter a new pack and mating was an expectation eventually to keep the gene pool going. Not like Toretto and O’Conner could breed together, so Toretto’s sister was the best choice. How freaking convenient.  
  
The Toretto-O’Conner clan was like a volatile car-obsessed were version of Meerkat Manor. And the lucky duck that he was, Hobbs had been sent on the chase after them. He was in for a hell of a ride.  
  
He grabbed his pants, which had ended up hanging off of the couch in the final melee. Crossing the room to collect his shirt would require more energy than he had at the moment. His glance flicked over to Brian, who stared at him with a cool expectant gaze.  
  
Looking away from O’Conner, Hobbs said, “That twenty-four hour window is ticking down, O’Conner, and I suggest you hit the road or you’ll make this too easy for me.” He rolled up to his feet with the fluidity of an old man who’d fallen in a tub. His bones popped with every inch towards upright and his muscles quivered after being under the stress of too much adrenaline and a body larger than his for once. If fighting Toretto had been like going one-on-one with a brick wall, then O’Conner was a hurricane in a deceptively lean blond, blue-eyed package.  
  
Brian shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, but I guarantee finding us will be anything but easy.”  
  
Hobbs rotated his head about his shoulders, working the kinks out with each twist. “Now that all that’s clear, you can get the hell out. Last thing I need now is your Alpha coming in here and going super aggro.” He was actually surprised the cops hadn’t shown up. Then again, the cops were probably still dealing with Toretto and O’Conner’s Godzilla-like road race that took out half of Rio.  
  
At least he wasn’t one of the stiff shirts with the embassy, because they were knee deep in shit and twice as smelly with all the shenanigans Blond and Brawny had pulled here.  
  
Brian nodded slightly, making an amused sound before heading to the door. “You manage to catch up with us again, make sure you follow the rules this time. I’d hate to have this _conversation_ again,” Brian said, while wearing that same perfectly satisfied grin.  
  
Hobbs’ neck had begun to heal, but ached something fierce. He traced the raw bite marks with gentle fingers. “Next time we meet, there won’t be much talking,” he said as Brian passed him. “By the way, you’re not going to say anything about staying away from your mate.  
  
"Isn’t that the whole reason…” He circled his finger about the room, indicating the total destruction of cheap hotel furniture.  
  
Facing the door, Brian replied, “Do I really need to?”  
  
After a quick survey of the room, the irritated pop and pull of bruises along his stomach, Hobbs chuckled, “No, message loud and clear.”  
  
The front door opened and Brian stepped across the threshold. The lights from the hall were blinding compared to the solo lamp in Hobbs’ room. Brian took a step, then paused, and turned back to face Hobbs. “On second thought,” he said, “stay away from my family and my mate…bitch.”  
  
And closed the door.  
  
Hobbs threw his head back and laughed.  
  
The heart of Rio might have been in the jungle beyond the city’s walls, but he’d just been rocked by nature in its most primal form: mates protecting one another. O’Conner rammed home that lesson with tooth, claw and by being a crafty bastard. Though thinking about what Toretto would have done if he’d come up for their little tete-a-tete should have inspired another flare up of his aches and pains, Hobbs had to say that he was still curious about what would really happen if two tigers and a lion were in a room. Especially if it wasn’t in the context of a drunken joke and said tigers and lions looked like Toretto, O’Conner and himself. He’d pay good money for a bigger bed just for that.  
  
He’d been wrong about Rio being easy, just like thinking capturing the Torettos and O’Conner would be like picking off the rest of the fugitive dirt bags that crossed his desk.  
  
A big lesson had been learned.  
  
One that wouldn’t be misunderstood.  
  
The End

 

 


End file.
